


To Catch A Hooded Thief

by SilverMiko



Series: A Funny Girl That Belle [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMiko/pseuds/SilverMiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin Hood stole the Dark One's magic wand, and Rumplestiltskin is not about to let it go, or let Belle off the hook for freeing Hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch A Hooded Thief

To Catch a Hooded Thief

 

The thief known as Robin Hood let an arrow fly free, and Belle watched in horror as it rooted itself into Rumplestiltskin’s chest. Relief did not fill her, did not soar through her crying out “escape!” Instead, she felt a horrible panic. He was the Dark One and did terrible things as the stories go, but she recalled the pillow from moments before, a small gesture of compassion. Before she could speak, Rumplestiltskin pulled the arrow out of his chest with a laugh. It would, it seemed, take more than that to kill the Dark One.  
The price to pay for deigning to rob him was Rumplestiltskin tossing the thief into the dungeons.  
“No one tries to steal from me, and this one will pay!”  
Belle opened her mouth to say something, but words stuck in her throat. Her previous fear for his life now turned into dread for Robin Hood’s. While the Dark One may have shown her a small measure of comfort, she strongly doubted he would extend the same to this man. She didn’t want to imagine what punishment lay in store.  
Rumplestiltskin turned on his heels to face her, grinning.  
“Well Dearie, I doubt you’ll want to witness what comes next so I suggest you go upstairs and do something useful!”  
“But…”  
“Now,” he said, firmly, in a lower pitched voice that made her wonder if that was his real voice, but she knew it meant to not argue. It was a command.  
She ran away, as fast as she could in her heeled shoes, lifting the yellow silk of her skirts and going up the stairs, up away from the darkness of the dungeons until she reached the large dining room and tucked herself firmly into a corner near a bookcase and curled up into a chair. She tucked her knees to her chest and did her best to not tremble.  
Later, or the next day judging from the brightness of the few rays of sunlight sneaking through the thick wall of curtains, Belle found herself still in the chair she had curled up in. A blanket had been placed over her, and from a quick look around she noticed a cup of tea sat on the small table next to her. She put her hand around the porcelain; it was still warm. Lifting the cup to her lips, it smelled faintly of roses and a taste confirmed it was a kind of rose tea with a hint of bitterness. It felt bracing in the cold morning and after the night she had. There were no other servants, so there only one person could have left it for her. The small act of kindness seemed such a sharp contrast to the sadistic merriment he showed in capturing Hood. Who was the Dark One, really?  
She busied herself with tidying up the room, trying hard to put thoughts of him and his captive out of her mind. This was her fate now, was it not? A princess fashioned down into a housekeeper, alone in the shadows. She looked to the large swaths of velvet blocking the sunlight and wished she could yank them down and let light and warmth in.  
Especially when thing got worse.  
The bloody aprons worried her, almost as much as the dismissive and gleeful attitude Rumplestiltskin had towards it, towards torturing another living being. She knew stealing was wrong, but no one deserved such cruelty. He claimed he skinned thieves alive, but would he? Could he dare? It didn’t take long for her to act. It was perilous and most certainly not a good idea, but when the Dark One left the castle on an errand, it was the only time to strike. She made her choice—she wasn’t going to stand by and let this continue.  
Everything has a price, a wise woman in the village near her castle once remarked to her father long ago when asking for advice over many of the Ogre outbreaks. Perhaps he would turn to her, flay her alive, lock her in darkness forever, but in this one moment Belle could be hero to at least one person. It was perhaps one of the only times now.  
She went down the dungeons. It was amazing how quick the whole thing was, assuring him her good intentions, quickly aiding his escape, tucking into the chair in the corner with a book and putting on a mask of innocence. Her heart raced terribly, more so when he returned. As he descended to that dark underbelly of the castle, her fingers gripped the book in her hand tighter. The sounds of rage howled up the stairs and he was before her in a mere moment. Their exchange was sharp and heated, and he was highly displeased. That much was clear when he vanished the book away from her, suggesting they filled her head with nonsense. She made her case, that Robin Hood seemed like a good person despite trying to steal that wand, but he was not hearing her words. He didn’t trust anyone who stole magic, he said, and a small part of her wondered if maybe he was right in that regard. She hoped, though, that Robin’s intentions were good. She did not want to be wrong about him.  
Rumplestiltskin indeed had mind to punish her for her actions, she was to come with him and watch him kill the wand thief. He wouldn’t simply kill her, no, good help was too hard to find! She didn’t want to bear witness to a murder. It was too much. She would rather spend fifty years in her cell, never speaking to another. She tried to plead to the Dark One’s compassion. Insist that deep down he was capable of love. He did give her that pillow after all. Was he so terrible?  
But he spurned the notion, balked at it. Her attempts to reason turned to ash in mouth, withering towards contempt.  
“You really are as dark as people say,” she practically spat out.  
“Darker, Dearie, much.”  
The ensuing carriage ride was just as awful, and she had to bite her lip or else her mouth would spill with words and pleas and she was too tired, too angry, and partially hopeful this maddening mission would cease to bother. Clearly, Rumplestiltskin was not going to be reasoned with at the moment. Her teeth rattled from the uneven dirt road as they moved deeper into the Sherwood Forest. Without warning, the carriage suddenly stopped.  
They got out and were greeted by a dark haired man on a horse, calling himself the Sheriff of Nottingham. It appeared he too sought out Robin Hood, but something about this Sheriff bothered Belle. Something in his decorum and manners seemed oily. Her suspicions were founded quickly when Nottingham asked for a night with the Dark One’s “wench” in return for helping him find Hood. Her eyes widened, insulted and concerned her master just might concede to further punish her. She wanted to hope he wouldn’t be so awful and agree. Luck was on her side, in a twisted way for Rumplestiltskin did not like Nottingham’s request. Through magic, he removed the Sheriff’s tongue, willing to return it for an exchange of information.  
He wanted nothing further, it appeared, than to prove he was a monster to her, maybe to himself as well. It did not take long to find the thief.  
Rumplestiltskin had Robin’s own bow and arrow ready at hand, but Belle pleaded for him to wait. There was a woman, clearly sick, lying in a cart and heavily pregnant. They watched as Hood used the wand, and the life seemed to instantly pour back into the woman.  
Belle tried to plead Hood’s cause more, she had been right! In return, she found herself sunken to the waist into the ground, unable to move. He wanted her to watch. She cried out more, believing there was still good in Rumplestiltskin. She watched, bow poised, as he wavered slightly before releasing the arrow. She turned her head, mouth open in horror then relief as the arrow missed by a few inches.  
He had let Hood go, whether he’d admit it or not. She knew, because Hood’s arrows never missed, no matter what Rumplestiltskin said. The emotions of the day came to a culmination within her, and she was not sure exactly why, but she threw her arms around Rumplestiltskin, hugging him. Grateful he didn’t kill Hood, grateful he didn’t kill her or loan her to Nottingham, grateful perhaps he was not so cruel, relieved that some of her hope came through.  
She felt him tense, likely confused, and the hug was over as quick as it started. She gave a small smile and headed back to the carriage, leading the way. She did not see the smile flicker across his face.  
The next day, after a full night’s sleep finally, she was summoned. Her Dark master had something to show her. Hesitantly, she followed him to an upstairs portion of the castle in the East wing. He opened a large set of wooden doors with flourish, revealing a room wall to floor with bookshelves.  
It was a library.  
“Is…this for me?” she asked, stunned at all the books before her. She loved books.  
He danced around an answer, and she knew yet again he would not admit it. He seemed to try hard to not own up to any kindness. Perhaps, he was not as dark as she thought; perhaps he just tried very hard to appear that way even to himself. She entered the library, not even sure where to begin.  
“Hmm another thing, Dearie. It might not do for my housekeeper to always be wearing such a formal gown of golden silks. Perhaps we need to find you something more appropriate.”  
She looked down at her skirts, which were beginning to look worse for the wear, and color rose to her cheeks.  
“Oh my, I think that might be wise. Er, thank you.”  
She watched him falter for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he simply turned on his heels leaving her behind.  
“Well you can start enjoying those books by giving them a dusting. Ta ta!”  
He disappeared and she walked around the large room, running fingers over the leather-bound book spines.  
Rumplestiltskin was a conundrum to her. One moment cruel, one moment kind, absolute then unsure; was he monster or man? Some sad state of in-between? He was old, she knew, as the stories said. Older than even her father perhaps. Maybe some of the man he once was still existed, but decades as the Dark One ate away at that lingering humanity slowly like a rot.  
She hoped not, for if she was to spend the rest of her life in his service, she hoped she could bring out some of that humanity. Anything otherwise was a terrible fate indeed.


End file.
